


Draw the Line

by honooko



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Explicit Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 17:44:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11213043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honooko/pseuds/honooko
Summary: Ohno and Nino have been edging along for years, in various ways. Maybe they've just never asked the right question.





	Draw the Line

**Author's Note:**

> This took me 6 months to write. I had a waxrose (LJ) visiting in December, and this all started because of her, but tangiblewhimsy (LJ) is the reason why all my fic has explicit consent nowadays. In 2003, Nino lived in Shin-Koiwa, Ohno lived in Mitaka; Ogikubo is reasonably close to Ogikubo. JE's head office was in the Shinjuku area, from what I understand.

Nino was fifteen the first time Ohno suggested it.

Everyone had noticed how quickly the two of them fell in together; in less than a week, they’d dropped honorifics and switched into nicknames. They ate meals together, sat together in between sets, made stupid faces at each other across the room, and by the third week, it felt like they’d been friends their whole lives.

“Isn’t this kind of weird though?” Nino asked Ohno one evening after dinner; they had a little free time for once, and Nino was draping himself over Ohno, his chest to Ohno’s back as the older boy reviewed his lines.

“Hm?” Ohno murmured without looking up. 

“This,” Nino repeated. “I met you what, three weeks ago?”

Ohno sat up very slightly, not enough to dislodge Nino but high enough to turn his head and look.

“Is it weird for you?” he asked, pouting in the way that made Nino want to... do something. He wasn’t even sure what, just _something._

“No!” Nino said immediately. “It’s fine with me.”

“Oh,” Ohno said, smiling. “Well, good. If you don’t like it, tell me though, okay?”

“Right,” Nino said, wondering how he could possibly ever not like doing this. “You’re good too?”

“It’s nice,” Ohno said, smiling softly. “It’s nice to be with you. You’re... I haven’t felt like this in ages.”

Nino ignored the way his stomach flipped. If he thought it about it every time it happened, he’d spend a good 80% of his day on it.

“Felt like what?” he asked, pressing his nose just behind Ohno’s ear. Ohno chuckled in the little huffing way he did that meant he was trying not to laugh loud enough to be heard. He shrugged his shoulders, still not trying to shake Nino off, but to draw attention to them.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Like... like I fit somewhere. Like I’m supposed to be here. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Nino said sincerely, going fully loose against Ohno’s back. The only thing holding him up was Ohno’s warm and solid torso; he smelled like sweat and just a hint of cigarettes. Nino caught him smoking on the second day, but he never told anyone. He hadn’t tried it yet, but enough of the other guys back in Tokyo did it that he wasn’t surprised at all. Who was he to judge? “When was the last time, you think?”

Ohno hummed in thought.

“A few months after I got here, I guess? I never really felt like I belonged here, but at first it was okay because Macchin didn’t either. Now he kind of does though.”

“You still don’t?”

“No,” Ohno said. After a short pause, he added quietly, “I call my mom every single day.”

Nino nuzzled Ohno’s cheek in what he hoped was a reassuring way. He, too, called his mother daily. Originally it had been a half-joking condition on his attending the trip, but it only took two days for Nino to realize he needed to hear her voice when home was so far away. He would only be in Kyoto for six weeks; he couldn’t imagine being away for an entire year.

“Home is home,” Nino said softly. “It’s okay to miss it.”

“I thought as long as Macchin came too, it’d be fine somehow,” Ohno said. “I guess I was wrong.”

“So…” Nino started hesitantly, “How exactly do I help?”

“I don’t know, really,” Ohno said, laughing again. “You just do. Nobody else does this,” he added, grabbing Nino’s hands from where they were hanging over his shoulders. “Do you do this with all your friends?”

“You’ve met my friends,” Nino reminded him. “Aiba does sometimes. Sho doesn’t like it so much, but he’ll hold hands. Jun just doesn’t really like touching at all. Toma used to, but about half a year ago he asked me to stop.”

“So just me?”

“Lately, yeah.”

“...Stay here.”

“What?” Nino asked, blinking. Ohno’s voice... it was so soft, and he’d ducked his head down shyly. His hold on Nino’s hands felt suddenly like he was closer than even his complete drape over Ohno’s back had been; their fingers twisted together and Nino’s heart thudded in his ears.

“Stay. Here, in Kyoto.”

“With you?”

“Yeah. With me.”

Nino pulled his arms in, wrapping Ohno in a hug. He wanted to say so many things, but he didn’t trust the confused tumble of feelings in his heart, so for a while he said absolutely nothing. Finally, he broke the silence.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Ohno said. Nino could hear him smiling. “Nevermind.”

Nino went to bed that night and wondered if he could ever tell Ohno how much he wanted to say yes.

 

A little over a year and a half later, Nino was standing in the sunlight with cameras pointed at his face and microphones everywhere. His friends were repeating the stock phrases they’d been drilling the entire trip so far, but Nino was far, far too busy trying not to be violently sick on camera.

_Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up on national television!_

The boat bucked over a particularly large wave and Nino felt a knee buckle. He was saved from staggering by Ohno’s strong arm coming around the back of his waist and holding him up. Nino couldn’t remember ever telling Ohno specifically that he was sick; everyone else had only found out when they caught him lying below in the dark or throwing himself into the tiny bathroom to empty his stomach. 

“I’m going to die,” Nino murmured just loud enough for Ohno to hear over the roar of the engine. Ohno’s grip around him tightened and he felt just the tiniest bit more stable. He forced a smile when the camera moved towards him. Later, he would have absolutely no memory of what he said, mostly because his internal mantra had changed.

_Don’t throw up on Ohno. Don’t throw up on Ohno. Don’t throw up on Ohno._

As soon as the cameras were off, Ohno steered Nino towards the lower deck. Sho was right behind, slinging his arm around Nino from the other side. The two of them half-carried him towards the darkest, coolest part of the boat they could find, but even as Nino could see the bench coming closer, he knew with an icy, sweaty certainty that he wasn’t going to make it that far.

“ _Side,_ ” he forced out urgently; Sho and Ohno had the combined strength to alter course, getting him to the rail just in time for his stomach to turn inside out for what felt like the hundredth time today. He didn’t even have any food left; that was long gone, but his guts insisted on valiantly emptying anyway. Even when he’d finished, Nino stayed sagged over the rail, gasping for air. His head was pounding ferociously, his breath was sour, his throat was sore, his entire body ached, and he was definitely going to get a sunburn. The best day of his career, debut, was completely and utterly ruined because some absolute _genius_ at the head office had booked this whole thing without thinking to ask if any of the five “stars” got seasick.

Sho had gone, probably to get help, but Ohno was right next to him throughout the vomiting process. His hand was rubbing comfortingly on Nino’s back, soothing as best he could. When it seemed like Nino had mostly finished, he helped Nino sit down with his back against the side. In one smooth movement, Ohno pulled his shirt over his head, then doused it with the contents of a nearby water bottle. He draped it over Nino’s head and upper shoulders; it was semi-cool, and created something of a shade. A towel would probably have been better, but Nino wasn’t confident he could walk all the way to wherever a towel was. He could just barely see out from under the hem: Ohno was kneeling next to him, hand rubbing on his back again. 

“Are you dead?” Ohno asked softly.

“I wish,” Nino muttered darkly. “Thank you.”

“It’s fine,” Ohno said. “You need it.” They fell into silence; Nino wanted to sleep, but every time he thought maybe it would be safe to get up and try to find a place to lay down, the boat would buck and his stomach would roll.

“Do you always get this sick?” Ohno asked after a while.

“Yep,” Nino said. “I don’t even like the beach. It happens if I look at the waves for too long.”

“And… nobody—“

“ _Nobody_ asked, not even _once_ ,” Nino said, fighting with a mixture of exhaustion and anger. He knew once they got back to land, he wouldn’t feel this all-encompassing rage towards the organizer of the event and would quite likely let it all pass without comment, but right now he was trapped on a hell-ship that seemed determine to turn his digestive system into a fountain of despair. He lifted his head with the intention of saying something to that effect, but the words dried on his tongue.

Ohno was so close, and his shirt was on Nino’s head. This left his upper body on full display, and while it certainly was not the first time Nino had seen Ohno without a shirt, there was a very different effect when he was also tan and sweaty. He dragged his eyes off of Ohno with a great deal of effort and hoped that his blooming sunburn would cover the flush he could feel on his face. He wasn’t even sure how his body had it in him to notice that way; he would have thought that just being violently ill would take up all his awareness.

Puberty was shitty.

“Ohno-kun,” Sho called from behind him, “We got them to clear off the bench down there. It’s pretty dark, I think he’ll do better.” Sho noticed Ohno’s shirt on Nino’s head and crouched down in front of him.

“Nino? Are you still awake?”

“Unfortunately,” Nino groaned. He felt a gentle pat on the top of his head.

“Can you walk?”

“I’m not sure I can stand,” Nino said with bitter honesty. “My legs don’t always work.”

“Worst comes to worst, I can probably carry you,” Ohno suggested. Nino heaved a sigh; on the one hand, it would be many colors of embarrassing to be carried, either over the shoulder or basically cradled, but on the other, the thought of walking felt akin to making plans to fly by flapping his arms vigorously: fanciful and pointless.

“Let me stand first,” he said. “I like to pretend I have dignity.”

Ohno and Sho managed to get Nino to his feet, and the three of them collectively got him below the main deck. Sho steered them to the couch-like bench in the shade; it was worryingly far from the bathroom, but Aiba was holding a bucket Nino was fairly sure would shortly be given to him.

“They said we’re on the way back,” Jun said, popping out from the cabin, “But we’re about twenty minutes out still.”

“Awesome,” Nino said. He stepped out of the arms of his friends towards the couch—at the very same moment the boat took another particularly large jump into the air. Nino knew he was falling, and he knew he had absolutely nothing to catch himself on except the floor. But Ohno had managed to deftly catch him around the waist again; later, Nino would spend a great deal of time pondering Ohno’s hidden physical strength and the muscles that may or may not be pleasant to look at, but in that moment the only thought he had was an overwhelming gratitude. Ohno got him to the bench and Nino lay down on his side, pulling his knees up. Aiba passed him the bucket and Jun threw a jacket over him. Sho handed Ohno a cool, damp towel, which Ohno then placed over Nino’s head again.

“Sorry if I barf on you,” Nino said quietly, feeling the exhaustion of sickness deep in his bones. Ohno laughed and took Nino’s hand in both of his.

“It’s fine,” he said. “Is it okay if I stay down here with you?”

Nino didn’t even have to think about it.

“Yes please.”

“Go to sleep,” Ohno said, lifting one hand to adjust the towel. “I’ll be right here.”

Nino fell asleep with his hand in Ohno’s; he woke up the same way.

 

Halfway through their first real tour, Nino realized that up until now, he had never truly experienced the depth and width of “utter and complete exhaustion.” He regretted ever having complained about being tired; he was a fool, an ignorant child who knew nothing of the horrors yet awaiting him.

But he was not even half as tired as Ohno.

Management told them that considering their relatively obscurity, it was hardly cost effective to get them each a hotel room, or even bullet train tickets. So Sho and Ohno bunked together, Aiba, Jun, and Nino shared a second room, and everyone passed out on an overnight bus in between venues. Sometimes they were jittery from excessive amounts of coffee and adrenaline rushes during the show, but inevitably someone would faceplant onto the folding tray or the window and be totally unresponsive for the next two-to-four hours.

But Ohno never slept. Not on the bus, not in the green room, and according to his roommate Sho, frequently not even in a bed. It was a baffling situation, because he was visibly exhausted to everyone who knew him, but he just didn’t seem to be able to get more than a handful of hours per day. The result was a very stressed-out Leader, one who didn’t seem to grasp how much his mood affected the others.

“Nino, you have to talk to him,” Sho begged him on the bus. “I only slept for four hours last night, and he was awake when I fell asleep, when I got up to go to the toilet, and when I woke up for real in the morning. _Four hours_.”

“That’s... not good,” Nino said. 

“It’s beyond not good,” Sho said. “I’ve pulled three-day all-nighters for exams. You really aren’t supposed to do it on the regular, it’s extremely bad for you.”

“You still do it though,” Nino pointed out. Sho shrugged.

“I also only get to stay in this group as long as I’m getting good grades. Unfortunately, I go to Keio,” he said. With an exaggerated mock sneer, he added, “I’m not like you nerds down at the performing arts school.”

“Yes, us lowly drama nerds,” Nino said, with equally joking seriousness, “We can only dream of being as cool as the Keio University Unicorns.”

“Really, though,” Sho said. “Please talk to him. He’s going to die if you don’t.”

“Why _me?_ ” Nino asked. Sho looked at him like he was insane.

“You’re his best friend,” Sho said. “He listens to you.” Nino crossed his arms nervously; it wasn’t that he disagreed, but it made him feel a bit strange that other people had noticed how close they were. It made him wonder what else other people had noticed.

“Okay,” Nino said. “Just—how about we trade tonight? You go with them instead.” Sho looked slightly uncomfortable until Nino added, “Jun takes one by himself. He hates sharing.” Jun had mostly gotten over his adoration of Sho, and Nino thought he had outgrown it rather gracefully considering, but there were still a few awkward moments where Jun wasn’t sure where the line was, and Sho wasn’t firm enough to clarify it. There was no real harm done, but Nino knew they would both prefer to avoid further embarrassment.

Ohno was sitting towards the back of the bus, slouched down in the seat. He had a small sketchbook open and a pencil in hand, but he was staring out the window into the darkness of the highway. Nino climbed into the seat next to him, pushing the armrest up so he could press in snugly next to Ohno. He dug his bony chin into Ohno’s left shoulder and blew on his ear. Ohno jumped.

“Hi,” Nino said.

“Hi?” Ohno said. He flipped the pencil in his hand; Nino liked to watch Ohno draw. It felt like magic sometimes because he could never guess at the beginning what it would be, but at the end he wondered how it could have possibly been less obvious. Somewhere in the middle, unconnected shapes and shadows came alive on the page.

Also, Ohno had very beautiful hands. The two were not entirely unrelated points.

“Tired?” Nino asked softly. Ohno hummed in agreement; he gently nudged Nino off his shoulder, but before Nino felt a sting of rejection, he lifted his left arm up entirely to invite Nino in closer. Delighted to indulge, Nino snuggled up to Ohno’s side and got comfortable with the older boy’s arm draped across his narrow shoulders.

“Are you sleeping?” Nino asked him, a warm contentment settling in his heart. 

“Are you eating?” Ohno shot back, a pointed deflection.

“Not really,” Nino acknowledged. He knew he wasn’t exactly a paragon of coping, but that didn’t mean Ohno was going to get away with treating his body like shit. This close, there was a sharp scent near Ohno’s collar that Nino had found multiple times on the course of the tour. He didn’t know where or when, but at some point that day, he’d smoked.

“Sho’s worried about you,” Nino informed him. “ _Sho_ is worried that _you_ don’t sleep enough. Do you even know how ridiculous that is?”

“Didn’t he go three days without sleeping last month?”

“Four. He had exams.”

Ohno huffed, clearly feeling Sho was in no position to judge. Nino didn’t disagree, but he was still on Sho’s side as far as “Ohno’s current sleeping habits” were concerned. The AC kicked on from the back of the bus and wafted over them; Nino, perpetually colder than everyone else, reflexively pulled down his company-issued cheap black sweat suit jacket over his hands before stuffing them in his armpits. He also pulled his legs up to rest on the seat. Ohno reached behind himself and pulled out his own jacket and draped it over Nino’s legs.

Ohno was pretty much always putting warm things on him; Nino certainly didn’t mind.

“Comfy?” Ohno asked, resting his head on Nino’s. 

“Snug as a bug,” Nino said. “A super buff, manly bug of course.”

“Aren’t ants super buff?” Ohno asked pensively. “They lift stuff, right?” 

“Draw that,” Nino demanded, pointing at Ohno’s sketchbook. “Draw me a super buff ant right now!”

“I’ll try, but I don’t know where to put muscles on a bug,” Ohno said, frowning slightly. 

“I believe in you,” Nino told him, folding into his side even more than he already was. Ohno did his best, and Nino had to admit: the ant turned out pretty ripped. He signed it with an exaggerated flourish and presented it to Nino, who pressed it to his heart and thanked Ohno dramatically, promising to treasure it always.

When they pulled up to the small, on-a-budget hotel, Nino followed Ohno off the bus towards the entrance. He twisted a hand in the back of Ohno’s shirt, tugging lightly.

“We’re roomies tonight,” he informed Ohno. “Sho traded me.” Ohno stopped abruptly and looked back at Nino with unmasked surprise. 

“We’re sharing?” he asked, a flicker of some emotion flaring up in his eyes before immediately being smothered. 

“Yeah,” Nino said, heaving his bag strap over his shoulder. “I need a break from being Aiba’s personal body pillow.”

“I didn’t know he was that... physical,” Ohno said.

“I don’t think he knows he is either,” Nino shrugged. “He does it after he’s already fallen asleep.”

Ohno lapsed into silence, which Nino didn’t see any reason to break. They shuffled to the front desk, received their keys, and then made it to the room. Jun looked about four seconds from passing out, so Aiba was carrying his bag for him; Sho was watching his feet, clearly focusing on making sure they continued moving in a forward direction. Nino waved at Aiba and mouthed ‘good night’ at him; Aiba smiled and nodded back before leading his barely-conscious roommates inside.

Ohno got their room open without a problem, hitting the lights as soon as they got in. The room was small but there were two double beds with a small mountain of pillows. Nino dropped his bag at the foot of one bed, then threw himself on it face down. He felt like he was melting into the duvet. He heard the squeaking of springs next to him; lifting his head, he saw Ohno perched on the edge of the other bed, watching Nino. When their eyes met, Ohno abruptly turned his head away.

“You’re going to sleep tonight,” Nino said firmly. Ohno’s shoulders hunched in a very suspiciously guilty way.

“I can’t—“

“You _will_ sleep,” Nino said, propping himself up on his elbows. “I may have to smother you with a pillow until you faint, but it will happen.”

“I wish it was that easy,” Ohno sighed, crossing his legs under him. He looked both very tired and very small; Nino wasn’t used to seeing Ohno looking so... vulnerable. He rolled off his bed and climbed up next to Ohno, kneeling.

“Hey.”

Ohno still wouldn’t look at him. Nino leaned sideways until their shoulders bumped together.

“Heeeeeey,” Nino said again. Nino leaned harder, forcing Ohno sideways until suddenly they both tipped over; Ohno ended up half-sprawled on his back, and Nino ended up mostly in his lap.

“Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyy,” Nino repeated in his most obnoxious whining voice, digging his chin into Ohno’s sternum. It was a stupid enough situation to finally, _finally_ get a laugh out of him; Nino put his hands on either side of Ohno’s shoulders and propped himself up to get a good look.

But Ohno’s arms went around his neck and pulled him back down. Silent, he held Nino close and buried his face in Nino’s neck. Unsure of what was going on and what to do about it, Nino decided his best course of action was just to wait.

“I hate this,” Ohno muttered into his neck. Nino’s heart pinched, but Ohno hadn’t released him. “I hate the hotels and the bus and the food.” Sensing a conversation coming, Nino wiggled a bit.

“Roll sideways with me,” he said. When he shifted his weight, Ohno did too, leaving them lined up front to front, Ohno’s arms still wrapped around him. Nino put one hand on Ohno’s waist and used the other to gently card through his hair.

“Tell me,” Nino encouraged softly.

“This isn’t my bed,” Ohno said. “It’s soft and it smells wrong. My clothes smell wrong. The food is weird. The bus is boring. I hate it.” Then, very quietly, he added, “I just want to go home.”

Nino had forgotten, somehow, how deeply homesick Ohno could get. The year or so they’d spent on the phone after Kyoto had always mentioned how much Ohno missed his house and his family. Two years away had not cured him of this ailment in any way; Nino had been so wrapped up in hiding his own longing for home that he’d forgotten to pay attention to his friend who had it the worst.

“Did you call your mom?” he asked, quietly enjoying the closeness.

“A few days ago. We get back so late, I don’t want to wake her up all the time.”

“I miss it too,” Nino admitted. “Especially in the hotel. It’s really... cold.”

“It’s _lonely_ ,” Ohno corrected. “Nobody... nobody else gets it. Sho can just pass out, but not me. I can’t stop thinking about how cold and empty it is.”

Nino couldn’t disagree. It was a large part of the reason why he didn’t actually mind being Aiba’s body pillow on a daily basis: he could pretend on some level it was just another version of the sleepovers they used to have before debut, a pile of overlapping futons and blankets that didn’t really keep anyone apart from anyone else.

But Ohno didn’t have that to fall back on. All he had was this: holding on to Nino for dear life. 

“I have an idea,” Nino said, continuing to slowly run his fingers across Ohno’s scalp. The movement always reminded him of being very small, when he’d curl up with his mother and she would gently comb his hair until he fell asleep. “How about we change, then get under here, and I’ll show you my special talent as the world’s best living body pillow?”

Ohno snorted into his neck before nodding.

They separated; Nino kicked off his track suit until he was in his boxers and undershirt; Ohno did the same, lifting the covers off. Before getting in, Nino did a circuit around the bed, pulling the duvet and sheets out from where they’d been tucked under the mattress. When Ohno gave him a curious look, Nino explained sheepishly.

“I like to tuck them under my feet,” he said. “Can’t do it when they’re tight like this.” Once his task was completed, Nino climbed in, Ohno right beside him. For a moment, they sat up side by side, staring at each other in what was increasingly tense silence. Nino wasn’t entirely sure how to make the offer of (totally platonic, he internally insisted) cuddling, or even if that had been what Ohno wanted. It was entirely possible he just thought they’d be sharing a bed, nothing more.

Ohno, for his part, looked equally unsure where to go from there. The tension was getting to a degree that Nino only really knew one way to dispel.

He threw his arms out wide, gave a mighty pout, and declared firmly, “Ravish me, Ohno-sama!”

Ohno laughed so hard he bent in half. Nino bravely maintained his pose and expression, waiting for his friend to get a hold of himself, but every time Ohno seemed to be getting it under control, he looked back at Nino and immediately lost it again. After the third time, Nino gave it up.

“I was serious about the body pillow thing, you know,” Nino said. “You don’t _have_ to cling to me like I’m a sexy anime pillowcase girl, but I won’t stop you if you do. Just keep it PG.”

“Aww,” Ohno said with pout that could rival Nino’s any day, “I thought I’d get to touch your butt at least.”

“PG-13, then,” Nino amended gracefully. He flopped back in the bed, holding his arms out invitingly. Ohno was smiling when he hit the lights and settled down next to him, but just before he let his arm fall across Nino’s waist, he hesitated.

“...Is this really okay?” he asked. There was no expression to read in the dark. Nino felt a surge of bravery and rolled onto his side to face Ohno, curling in close and (boldly) pushing a leg between Ohno’s knees.

“Do it,” Nino said. When Ohno let his arm fall, then gently pulling him closer still, Nino wondered if anything would ever feel as right as this, right here, just Ohno holding him like he was precious and needed.

They both slept solid for the next seven hours, and when Nino woke up, he kept his eyes closed and pretended that he hadn’t for as long as he thought he could get away with it. For the rest of the tour, Sho and Nino would switch once the managers had gone to bed, and Ohno told them both in not so many words that he was very, very grateful.

 

The train doors slid shut with a cheery jingle just as Nino was shoved from behind at the bottom of the staircase and landed on all fours on the platform. It whooshed away as he got up, wincing from scraped palms and a bruised knee. The businessman who had pushed him looked over in mild disgust before angrily stomping back up the stairs, presumably to call a taxi.

Nino was fairly certain he could not afford a taxi from where he was to his house. For one thing, it was across the city. For the other, he only ever carried as much cash as he absolutely needed in a day, and the ATMs had closed for the night.

With the last train come and gone, he had two choices: sit on a cold platform for the next five hours until the first train came, or find somewhere to sleep for the night. Neither of them sounded great—he always preferred to go home at the end of a long day—but such was life. He pulled out his phone, looking at the battery in dismay.

“Mom?” he said the second she picked up. “Battery’s dying, I missed the train. I’ll stay with someone, see you tomorrow.”

“Be safe!” she said very quickly. “Love you!” They hung up at the same time. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten stuck; the first time he had no choice but to continue on the Sobu line out to Funabashi and stay over at Aiba’s. His mother had been in a panic in the thirty minutes or so it took for him to get to Aiba’s, and therefore a phone. They invested in a cheap mobile immediately after that.

Unfortunately, Aiba didn’t live in Funabashi anymore. Nino ran through his mental contacts list, scratching off everyone he felt would be even mildly inconvenienced. Sho was too far. Jun had a drama. Shun had a drama. Wentz moved. Piko and Osugi were probably at that one bar they’d been really into recently. He’d almost been recognized at that one internet café he used to use as an emergency crash pad last time, so he couldn’t go back.

Nino sighed. It was a bit of a walk, but Ohno’s house was within a reasonable distance. He didn’t bother calling because Ohno essentially didn’t answer his phone the first five or six times it rang, and with a dangerously low battery, Nino wasn’t sure he could even call three. It took about an hour, but he found his way to the Ohno family home with relative ease. His shoulders were hunched up basically to his ears as the temperature bottomed out low. It wasn’t quite freezing, probably, but it was still damn cold, especially as a wind cut its way through the streets with remarkable strength. Once he arrived, he hesitated on the doorstep; Ohno’s parents were almost certainly asleep, even if their son almost definitely was not. Before he even knocked, the door was opening.

“Kazunari-kun,” Ohno’s mother said with a smile. She was in a bathrobe, but clearly expecting him. Seeing the confusion on his face, she waved him inside.

“Your mom called me,” she said. “We guessed you’d make it over this way somehow.”

“Sorry for the intrusion,” he said sheepishly, but she just laughed. 

“It’s a good thing you’re predictable,” she informed him with a pat on the hand. “Gives us moms less to worry about that way.” Nino politely positioned his shoes the doorway and put on the house slippers Ohno’s mother gave him.

“Satoshi’s upstairs—as usual—but if you want to take a bath, I can get one going and find some pajamas for you,” she offered. Nino couldn’t help but smile at Ohno’s mother; she was both incredibly sweet and eerily similar to her son in the face. They had the same soft-edged smile, although hers were frequently more devious than Ohno’s. 

“Thank you for the offer,” Nino said, “But I’m really just tired.” 

“Okay then,” she said, waving him towards the staircase. “You know where he is. I’m going to call Kazuko and tell her you made it. Goodnight!”

“Goodnight,” Nino said, waving as he headed up the stairs. Ohno essentially had the upper floor to himself; his sister hadn’t lived there in years, having gotten married and moved into her own home. Rather than converting the extra room into a guestroom of some kind, the family had reached some kind of understanding that it would just be an overflow kind of space for whatever art or dance project he happened to be working on that could not fit reasonably in his bedroom. 

Going purely on whether or not he could see lights coming out from under Ohno’s door, Nino determined he was in fact in the spare room. He pushed the door open very slowly; if Ohno was painting or drawing with ink, a single startled jump could ruin whatever he was doing.

Sure enough, standing in the middle of the room was an easel, with Ohno perched effortlessly on a stool. He was inking something, and not only was it huge, it was incredibly detailed; Nino couldn’t see anything clearly from where he was, but the movements of Ohno’s hand as he went progressively lower on the paper were familiar. His fingers arched so delicately around the pen and he’d lifted his last two fingers entirely off so they wouldn’t drag across the wet ink.

Ohno finally noticed a shadow of Nino crouched in the doorway, watching him like a creepy stalker, and turned around.

“Nino?” he said. “What... what are you doing here?” Then, after a moment of thought, he added, “Were we meeting today?”

“Nope,” Nino said. “I’m a figment of your imagination. Not even really here. Don’t mind me, just your average, run-of-the-mill full-blown hallucination. Or haunting. Your choice.”

“Don’t you have to be dead to haunt someone?”

“I could be dead.”

“Be honest,” Ohno chided. “If you were dead and haunting someone, it would be Jun. You would stare at him and move things around in his living room. Not in a creepy way, just putting his stuff in a different order to annoy him.”

“You know my dead-self so well,” Nino sighed. “It’s true, I’m alive.”

“In my house,” Ohno continued. “In my room, even.”

“This isn’t your room,” Nino corrected. “Your room is next door.”

“They’re both my rooms.”

“So pedantic, Ohno-san,” Nino said, waving a hand at him.

“Nino,” Ohno said, turning around on the stool. “Why are you in my house at—“ he checked his watch, “—two in the morning?”

Nino stood up, jamming his hands in his pockets self-consciously. He shrugged in Ohno’s general direction and let his eyes wander around the room. He saw canvases drying by the window, and a stack of CDs next to a wadded-up towel.

“I missed my train,” he explained. “I didn’t know where else to—“

“Did you _walk?!_ ” Ohno exclaimed suddenly. “Wasn’t it far?!”

“It’s way farther if I was walking to Shin-Koiwa,” Nino pointed out. “That’s like a good five hours. It’s only about an hour to here.”

“Why didn’t you get a taxi?”

“To _Shin-Koiwa_?! From Ogikubo?! _At peak fare hours?!_ ”

“Ogikubo?” Ohno said. “Oh, I thought you were coming from the office.”

“I’m cheap,” Nino said with a snort, “I’m not insane.”

Ohno laughed and shuffled over to him; he was barefoot, a pointed contrast to the thick socks, warm slippers, and jacket that Nino had zipped up to his chin. He was just beginning to feel thawed. Ohno reached out a hand and Nino could have sworn the world slowed to slow motion; he pushed an errant lock of hair off of Nino’s forehead. At first, he seemed to be attempting to fix the mess the wind had made, but after a while it started to feel like Ohno was just... playing with his hair.

Nino certainly didn’t mind, but he could feel an embarrassing heat rising on his face; interestingly, around the same time Nino began to think maybe he should say something, Ohno turned a rather pink shade and abruptly dropped his hand.

“Um,” he said, looking away. “Sorry.”

“Let’s go to bed,” Nino said immediately. Seconds later, his mind registered what had just left his mouth, and also the slightly alarmed face Ohno was making. “I mean. I’m just... really tired. And cold. But also tired, so if we could—I need to sleep. We should sleep together.”

“You’re making it worse,” Ohno pointed out.

“I’m _tired_ ,” Nino repeated. “You’re lucky I can still speak at all.”

Ohno laughed.

“Well, I guess since it’s you, I don’t mind sleeping together,” Ohno said with a smile that Nino had long ago identified as his version of the ‘devious’ face. It made Nino smile, but it also made him want to drag Ohno back to his bedroom and make out aggressively for a while.

This was not a new realization.

“Bedtime,” he said, turning and making his way to Ohno’s bedroom. He opened the door and toed off the slippers; as he unzipped his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair, Ohno rummaged through his dresser until he found a t-shirt and some sweatpants. He tossed them over as soon as Nino had pulled off his own shirt; by the time Nino was done putting the loaners back on, Ohno had stripped down to his undershirt and boxers and was shaking out his bedcovers. Nino shot him a filthy look that made him freeze.

“What?”

“You’re _warm_ ,” Nino said bitterly. “Boxers? No sleeves? How dare you.”

“You might be warmer if you got a little fat,” Ohno suggested helpfully as Nino quickly got under the covers.

“Eh. I’d have to eat more probably,” Nino said. “Food’s expensive.”

“It would also make hugging you better,” Ohno said. “You’re pretty pointy right no—“ he broke off with a yelp.

“What?!” Nino said, sitting up. “What happened?!”

“Your feet!” Ohno said.

“My feet?!

“They’re _freezing_ ,” Ohno said. Nino stared at him before sighing and flopping back down in the bed. 

“I walked here, remember?” he said. “It’s cold and I only brought sneakers.” The mattress bounced a bit as Ohno settled, and Nino scrunched down until the duvet came to his chin. He was about to demand close-contact body warmth when something grabbed his foot, causing him to nearly scream and jump out of the bed.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

“Your feet are ice cold!” Ohno said defensively, holding one of Nino’s feet in his hands. “There’s no way I can sleep like that!”

“...So what, you’re just going to rub them warm?”

“That’s the plan,” Ohno said. He sat on the end of the mattress cross-legged with the blankets pushed aside and Nino’s foot in his lap. ‘Warming up’ turned into a massage of some sort. At first, he just ran his palm up and down the sole of Nino’s foot. Gradually he worked his way around the heel, up the arch, attending to every toe. The entire time, Nino had his arm over his face. It wasn’t just that he was embarrassed; he couldn’t imagine, for one thing, that his feet smelled particularly acceptable after a long walk, and he knew dancing for work certainly didn’t help with aesthetics. But Ohno either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Instead, he was paying more attention to Nino’s stupid feet than any reasonable human would be, and he was _really good at it._

Nino did not intend the soft moan that left his throat to sound as sexual as it did. He hadn’t meant to make a sound at all, but a particularly good dig into his sole took the choice out of his hands. Horrified, Nino immediately smothered himself before anymore sounds could bubble forth.

“…Should I stop?” Ohno asked in a very odd tone. Nino looked at him, but Ohno was still staring resolutely at the foot he had yet to release.

“Yes. No. I don’t—“

“If you want me to stop—“

“I _don’t_ ,” Nino said in frustration. “But I _should._ ”

“But you don’t,” Ohno clarified. Nino made a wordless, needy kind of sound, covering his face with both hands. With a tiny smirk that Nino could _hear_ , Ohno said, “Then I won’t.” He pressed his thumb into the arch again.

Ohno switched feet. As he proceeded to lavish the neglected one with equal attention, he commented mildly, “I didn’t know you had a thing for foot rubs.”

“ _Neither did I,_ ” Nino said, increasingly aware of the danger he was in. Somehow, Ohno had found a sensation Nino had not previously encountered before, and it was a damn good one. At some point, the two of them would be lying in the bed, together; at some point, the degree to which he was enjoying this would impact the degree to which he could enjoy the rest of the night. Eventually, he’d be hard enough to notice.

That thought alone was enough to send a shiver down his spine, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety.

“Stop,” Nino said abruptly. Ohno let go immediately.

“…Did it get weird?” he asked.

“It always gets weird with us eventually,” Nino pointed out. “We should be used to it by now.” Ohno sighed before tucking the blankets around Nino’s pleasantly warm and tingly feet, making sure to pull the sheet under the way he liked it. He then lay back in the bed properly, shoulder to shoulder with Nino. He hit the light on the nightstand with one hand, and they plunged into darkness.

“To clarify,” Nino felt compelled to add, “Weird is not inherently bad.”

“True.”

They silence hung, heavy and unsure.

“I’m... not going to hug you right now,” Ohno said in that odd tone again. “It’s—it would be a bad weird.”

“Okay,” Nino said, ignoring the twinge of disappointment in his heart. “No pressure.”

“Lots, actually.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Ohno said, rolling over so they were pressed back-to-back. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Nino said.

Neither of them slept for quite some time.

 

“Are you going to the hospital now?”

Nino looked at Ohno. He’d spent two weeks dancing around his increasingly poor health, and in particular, the part where he’d been sleeping at a hospital, as a patient, for three days. He couldn’t eat, he could barely drink, one of his arms felt like it was being ripped off slowly every time he raised it, he no longer felt injections because he’d had so many needles in his arms at the hands of more nurses than he could remember and he was 90% certain he was, actually, dying.

“What are you talking about?” Nino deflected neatly. He didn’t look at Ohno; apparently when he made eye contact with people they were able to tell that he was Not Doing Well. Nino’s solution to the problem was just to stop looking at people. Or looking in general, which is why his eyes were closed.

“Kazunari,” Ohno said softly. There was no one else in the green room at that particular moment, but that did not mean someone else would not walk in at any second. It was not the time or place for discussions or confessions.

“Satoshi,” he said, but for once he let any and all filters fall away. His voice sounded small and tired to his own ears; it must have sounded far worse to Ohno, because he immediately tried to hold Nino’s hand. Unfortunately, he grabbed the one on the right—the one currently carving a pit of agony via an infected lymph node (apparently) in his armpit. The pain was enough to trigger his body to flinch and curl away from the touch. Ohno dropped his hand like it was burning hot.

“I’m sorry,” he said urgently, “I’m so sorry, are you okay? Kazu?”

“Fine,” Nino hissed through a clenched jaw. “Everything is fine.”

“It’s _not_ ,” Ohno insisted. He leaned forward, about to say more, but Nino wasn’t going to walk down that path right now.

“ _Leave it,_ ” Nino snapped, making full eye contact. He could see the hurt in Ohno’s face, and he would feel bad about it later, but all he could think about was breathing around the pain; he’d need another IV tonight, that was for damn sure.

Ohno didn’t ask again, but he also steadfastly refused to leave Nino’s side unless absolutely necessary. While it wasn’t unusual for the two of them to spend so much time together, the fact that it was virtually in silence got them more than a few sideways glances. At first, Nino would smile and pretend everything was sunshine in rainbows, but it didn’t take long for that to use up what little stores of energy he had left. When he felt a smile cracking, truly falling apart the moment he tried to get it on his face, something remarkable happened.

Ohno stood up and stretched with an exaggerated, loud yawn. It drew all the visual attention off of Nino.

It was only for a moment, but Ohno had seen the break. He grabbed his jacket off a nearby chair, returning instantly to Nino’s side. He seemed about to place it before he hesitated.

“I don’t want to hurt you again,” he said quietly. The last staffer left the room, leaving them alone once more, so Nino felt safe in answering.

“It’s the right arm,” Nino explained, every syllable laced with exhaustion. “The whole thing is fucked up.”

Gingerly, Ohno placed the jacket over Nino and settled by his side again. This time, he took Nino’s left hand.

“Everyone is eating in the other room,” Ohno informed him. “Now will you tell me what’s going on? I know you went to the hospital last night. Your mom told mine, and she asked me.”

Nino debated the merits of honesty and friendship versus having the strength to give two shits.

“I can’t remember the real name of it,” Nino said wearily, “But it’s some kind of weird infection in the lymph nodes in my armpit.”

“Your what in the where?”

“Pain. Everything is pain.”

“I noticed.”

“I went to the hospital the first time because they told us that if the fever went up or my arm got worse, I had to go immediately. Both of those things happened, but it’s not like I’m dying, so I stayed the night and they gave me drugs and then I came to work.” He paused, unsure whether the additional information would do more damage than it would prevent, then continued, “That was three nights ago. Every day it gets a little worse, so I keep having to go back. The only reason I can sleep when I go is because they make me. Then they wake me up in the middle to take my temperature.”

“And you’re going back again tonight?” Ohno asked, gently squeezing the hand he was holding.

“I hope so,” Nino said. “I can’t move my arm anymore, and I kind of need to be able to do that.”

“I want to go with you,” Ohno said. Nino shot him a stern look.

“You can’t,” he said. “It’s a hospital, not a sleepover.”

“So I’ll wait in the waiting room.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“The only reason my mother goes home is because I tell her I absolutely don’t need her to sleep in a plastic chair for six hours while I get poked by nurses,” he said sharply. “If you come, she’ll stay, and that is not going to happen.”

Ohno went quiet; Nino wondered if he was regretting even suggesting it. 

“Four.”

“What?”

“Four nights. I’m keeping track. We’ll cash them in later,” Ohno said firmly.

“Cash them in?” Nino asked, completely unable to follow.

“Every night you sleep there, we’ll make up somewhere else. I’ll hug you when you’re better,” Ohno elaborated. “Also, I can’t sleep on tours without you, so you need to get better pretty quick.”

Nino had to admit; spending another night in a cold, sterile hospital bed sounded a little bit less awful if it meant one night of unconditional cuddling later. Slowly, with great care taken to avoid jostling his bad arm, Nino rested his head on Ohno’s shoulder.

“Sounds like a plan,” he said. 

That night, as they walked to the cars waiting to take them to their homes, Ohno dawdled until he fell back with Nino. Determined to keep his condition a secret, Nino had waited for everyone else to go before heading out himself. When Ohno came up to his left side and took his hand, he couldn’t help but smile, no matter how much his body hurt. Ohno wordlessly helped get him into the car and got a seatbelt on him, but just before he pulled himself out of the car, he paused.

Ducking his head for less than a heartbeat, Ohno kissed him on the cheek.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “Wasn’t weird yet.”

And then he was gone, leaving Nino cold, alone, and strangely comforted.

 

It was a few months before Nino brought it up. It had taken far longer than anyone wanted for him to recover, and he’d only made it through because Ohno had talked him into sharing the situation with the group as a whole. His friends made sure he ate, slept, was kept warm and reasonably comfortable, as well as made executive decisions about how the tour would be filmed in the interest of maintaining privacy. Sho walked him in the mornings, Jun and Aiba led him around during the day and Ohno walked him out at night, each time leaving him a kiss on the cheek when no one was looking.

Nino had tried to show them all how much it meant to him in various ways; he wasn’t terribly good at showing strong feelings, but he wanted to make sure that every single one of them knew he was touched by their care and kindness, and how much he wanted to give it back in return. Aiba laughed at him.

“Now you get it,” he said. “I told you guys: this is Arashi. It’s all of us, right? Of course we’re not going to let you down!”

“I never thought you would,” Nino said. “I just thought—“

“It was better off secret?” Aiba said pointedly. “That it would bother everyone? Be a burden on them?”

“You can stop reading my mind now,” Nino sighed. “I get what you mean.”

“We’re going to get sick,” Aiba said quietly. “We’ll get hurt. We’ll need help. But Arashi is—Arashi is stronger than that, and probably stronger because of that.” He ducked his head shyly before adding, “That’s what I think, at least.”

Nino remembered the icy terror that rolled through them all the day that Aiba couldn’t breathe. He never, ever wanted to experience anything like that again.

Ohno had been busy recently, between various work projects and his own constantly-increasing hobbies, giving Nino very little time with him. This wasn’t unheard of, but after months of illness and close attention, the distance hurt in a way he hadn’t expected. It was like an addiction; he’d had Ohno by his side for so long that being apart, even for a few days, made him spend hours at home with his phone in his hand. He would start to call, then stop, then start, then stop, then drop it on the other side of the room and try to take his mind off things with games... only to find himself creeping back towards it again.

More than anything, he missed the kisses. Now that he was for the most part healthy again, he also found his mind wandering onto other applications and contexts for kissing Ohno, and while he’d certainly daydreamed that direction before, the intensity of it was new. It didn’t help that Ohno had clearly created the opportunity to spend more time together with his system of make-up days for the hospital. Finally, after a solid two months of good health, Nino was ready to cash those days in.

It felt weird to invite Ohno to his house, or invite himself to Ohno’s, considering the topic he wanted to go over, so instead he settled on meeting for ramen somewhere in between their homes. Ohno never teased him about meeting for ramen, but Ohno also treated all food with dignity and respect.

Nino got there first, a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. He’d already finished one cigarette by the time Ohno ducked through the dimly-lit doorway, a hat pulled down low to hide his face. The guy at the door sent him over to the corner where Nino was hiding from view. Ohno slid into the seat with a grin.

“Hey,” he said, “Did you order?”

“Nope,” Nino said, tapping out a second cigarette. “Waited for you.” Ohno watched him light it and inhale with such focus, Nino offered it to him. 

“I’m good,” he said softly. “I should quit anyway.”

“You’ve been smoking for years,” Nino said, surprised. Ohno shrugged.

“Sooner or later it’s going to catch up, you know?” he explained. “I can sing and dance now, but what happens if I can’t?”

“True,” Nino conceded. “Don’t expect me to do it too though.”

“To be honest,” Ohno said, “I wish you would.” Nino frowned at him; Ohno hadn’t really expressed anything like this before.

“Why?” Nino asked, baffled.

“You were sick,” Ohno said very softly. He picked up the hand-written drink menu and dragged a finger down the list. “Aiba-chan, too.”

“One, Aiba has had asthma for _years_ ,” Nino pointed out, “Two, mine was completely unrelated to my lungs.”

“It doesn’t matter if it was related. They make you sick more and longer. I don’t want you to get sick again,” Ohno said, refusing to look up from the menu. Something was off about the entire conversation that Nino couldn’t quite pin down. He snuffed out the cigarette with barely a quarter gone and pulled the menu from Ohno’s hands.

“I’m not getting sick again,” he said firmly. Ohno looked at the tabletop.

“You say that, but you—it could happen.”

Nino could feel frustration bubbling up in his throat, but things were changing in his head. Little gears that had spent years whirling pointlessly in isolation were clicking together, piece by piece. Even as it all came together, he couldn’t quite bring himself to trust or believe what was now hanging between them.

But he wanted it so fiercely, and if he was right about all of this, someone else wanted it too.

Nino put his hand over Ohno’s and slowly, cautiously, leaned across the tiny table. Ohno had frozen in place, but when Nino kissed his cheek, just the soft and gentle peck he’d gotten every day before the hospital, Ohno’s eyes closed. 

“I was thinking,” Nino said. “About the nights in the hospital and what you said about making up for it all later.”

“I... did say that,” Ohno said, eyes still closed.

Nino turned over Ohno’s hand in his, twisting their fingers together. He ran his thumb over Ohno’s wrist, right across the pulse point, wondering if he could feel a galloping heartbeat to match his.

“Let’s make it weird,” Nino suggested.

“Move in with me,” Ohno blurted out. Nino blinked at him, confused about the abrupt turn the conversation had taken. Ohno opened his eyes to look at Nino, raw sincerity in his face.

“I’m moving out next month,” Ohno said. “Move in with me.”

“Uh,” Nino said, “This is kind of sudden.”

“I was going to ask you before, but you were sick, so...” Ohno said.

“You’re serious.”

“Yeah,” Ohno said. “Let’s live together. I’ll get a big TV so you can play games, and we’ll keep the heat on so you won’t be cold, and you can pick all the food we get.”

“Satoshi,” Nino said, “That’s—we’re not—“

“I know we’re not,” Ohno interrupted; there was a strange desperation to his voice. “But it sounds good, right? So... why can’t we do it anyway?”

Nino stared at their linked hands. Ohno wasn’t wrong; it sounded great. A place of their own, to fill the way they like, located somewhere convenient, with cheap rent because they split it. If Nino was completely honest with himself, the idea of just casually existing with Ohno on a daily basis was one of the more pleasant things he could think of. It wasn’t waking up next to someone, but it was close, and he couldn’t lie to himself and pretend it wasn’t a very tempting offer.

“Oh, what the hell,” Nino said with a grin. “It can’t get any weirder than that, right?”

 

For their first dinner together as a household (as Nino jokingly titled the situation) they had pizza on the floor. Ohno said he’d bought a couch, but it wasn’t coming for another few days, so they sat cross-legged in the general living area with the box open between them. There were boxes scattered throughout the place, with very little unpacked; the apartment was big enough for two people, but typical of something in central Tokyo, it was a squeeze. The two small bedrooms were already pretty crammed, and Ohno’s mattress hadn’t even made it over yet.

“You probably should have ordered that stuff sooner,” Nino commented in between slices.

“I didn’t know if I’d actually be moving in or not,” Ohno reminded him. “If you said no, I’d find something smaller.”

“Even in a different apartment, you’d still need a bed though,” Nino pointed out. Ohno shrugged.

“I might have gone futon, I don’t know. Or maybe just slept on the couch; it’s really comfy, you’ll see.”

Nino snorted into his coke bottle. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest that Ohno was apparently semi-planning on sleeping on his own sofa in favor of a proper bed; one of the bonuses of being short was that couches were plenty long enough to stretch out on.

“Well, I have a bed,” Nino reminded him, tone lofty.

“You have a mattress,” Ohno corrected, “On a box spring. There’s no frame, so it doesn’t count as a full bed.”

“It’s a single,” Nino replied, “Not a full. It’s the same one I’ve had since sixth grade.”

“Sounds nice,” Ohno sighed. “Better than the floor, that’s for sure.”

“Well, yeah,” Nino said, debating another slice of pizza. “But you’re not going to sleep on the floor, so what does that have to do with anything?” Ohno paused just before biting his own slice, a look of confusion crossing his face.

“I’m not?”

“Of course not,” Nino said. “You’re bunking with me. Obviously.”

“In your twin bed.”

“Someone once told me it’s better than the floor,” Nino pointed out coolly. Ohno put down his pizza for a moment, running his free hand through his hair. He sighed heavily in a way that made Nino suddenly feel awkward.

“I don’t think I can do that,” Ohno said softly. Nino put down his coke and clasped his hands together tightly; he tried to keep his face and voice neutral as he steeled himself for the confrontation (and subsequent rejection) he felt like they’d been avoiding for years.

“Why did you ask me to move in?” Nino asked, tone measured. Ohno wouldn’t look at his face; it twisted something in Nino’s heart to see.

“...I like being around you,” Ohno said. “It’s—it feels... nice.”

“Why did you ask me to stay with you in Kyoto?”

Ohno looked up, surprised.

“You remember that?”

“Of course I do,” Nino said. “And when you held my hand on that stupid boat. And sitting next to you on the tour bus. And sleeping in the same hotel bed. And your bed. And—and sending me off to the hospital.”

Now Nino was the one who couldn’t seem to look Ohno in the eye.

“I remember all of it. I liked all of it. You told me I’d get to make up those days, and I believed you.”

“Kazunari, I—“

“If you’re going to draw the line, do it now,” Nino said, frustration bleeding into his voice despite his best efforts. “I don’t know where it is and I haven’t for years. Tell me I can’t—tell me you won’t—“

“ _Kazunari,_ ” Ohno said. He reached out with one hand to raise Nino’s chin from where it had fallen, forcing eye contact. For a moment, there was silence; maybe Ohno was waiting, or maybe Nino was. He didn’t know; he was so confused and the feelings he’d been carefully guarding for years were out for Ohno to see. This was it. This was the boundary, the wall they couldn’t cross.

He was going to miss Ohno so, so much.

“I never figured it out, you know,” he said. “I never knew what you wanted or why you were doing it. Any of it. I just hoped it was for the same reasons I was.”

“Can I kiss you?” Ohno interrupted in the way that Nino was beginning to recognize as a pattern with him. He blinked, trying to wrench his train of thoughts back from where they’d jumped the rails completely.

“What?”

“Can I kiss you?” Ohno repeated firmly. 

“You didn’t ask last time,” Nino pointed out, still having trouble processing what was (apparently) happening.

“I didn’t kiss you on the lips last time,” Ohno explained. “I probably still should have asked, sorry.”

“Sorry?” Nino said, incredulous. “ _Sorry?!_ ”

“Is that a no?” Ohno said, letting his hand fall from Nino’s face. Nino’s thoughts were racing as fast as his heart. Things were clicking again, whirling, playing out images and daydreams in the vibrant color of possibility. The barrier he’d felt between them now had a door.

Nino surged forwards, one hand sliding to the back of Ohno’s head and kissing him with the full force and pent-up attraction that had been sitting heavy in his heart since he was fifteen years old. He wanted Ohno, so deeply and powerfully, for so long and from so close that taking this final jump felt _right,_ even if it went horribly, disastrously wrong.

Ohno always had better control of his body that anybody else Nino had ever known; he broke the kiss just long enough to breathe before coming back, passionate and hot. He shoved the pizza box aside and closed the space between them with such speed that he knocked Nino backwards onto the floor. Nino’s skull cracked on the linoleum.

“Ow, fuck!”

“Sorry,” Ohno gasped, putting his hand between Nino’s head and the unforgiving surface, “Sorry, sorry.” 

“Forgiven,” Nino said instantly, pulling him down for more desperate, needy kisses. Ohno was so intense that thinking was basically impossible; there wasn’t time or space for thoughts other than ‘that’ or ‘yes’ and occasionally ‘ _oh yes_.’ His fingers were gripping the front of Ohno’s shirt so tightly he was on the verge of ripping it, but he wanted to prevent Ohno from pulling away from him at all costs. Finally faced with the choice of kissing or air, they parted. Ohno pressed his forehead to Nino’s with a soft noise of displeasure, as if even that tiny distance was too much.

Nino became somewhat more aware of the fact that Ohno was basically straddling his hips and pinning him down, and even further aware of how much he liked it. Experimentally, he pulled up a knee until his thigh met Ohno’s groin. The noise he was treated to _then_ was even _better._

“Do you have any idea,” Nino said, grinding his thigh up rhythmically, “how long I’ve been wanting to do this?”

Ohno moaned, nuzzling at Nino’s jawline and scraping his teeth along Nino’s neck.

“I would have made out with you on stage in Kyoto if you asked, but no,” Nino gasped as Ohno left a bite that would almost certainly bruise. “Instead, I spent _years_ hoping you were gay enough for this to happen.”

“What about me?” Ohno breathed into his ear. “I’m supposed to know that sleeping in a bed with Aiba is different than with me? Or hugging? Holding hands? Showing up at my house?”

“Aiba never rubbed my feet,” Nino pointed out, grinding his leg up again. “Or kissed me.”

“You’re gay with everyone,” Ohno complained even as he couldn’t quite hold back the rolling thrusts against Nino’s thigh. “Didn’t know if it was me in particular.”

“You in particular,” Nino informed him with great enthusiasm. “ _You._ ”

“Good to know,” Ohno said. “Can I—um.” He stopped rocking, frozen in place, suddenly tense in an uncomfortable way. Nino made a questioning sound, not pleased at the changes. Despite Nino’s best efforts, he was sitting up and that was _not okay._

“Don’t go,” Nino said, surprised at the absolute heartbreak in his own voice. “Please don’t—” Ohno dropped back to kiss him again, firm and sure, before pulling back.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said with a grin. “I live here.”

“Then _why did you stop_ ,” Nino demanded to know. Ohno’s grin turned sheepish and just a shade embarrassed.

“The thing is,” he said awkwardly, “I’m, um.”

“Hard,” Nino supplied. “Go on.”

“What exactly are we... doing?” Ohno asked. Nino raised an eyebrow, unsure if this was a trick question of some kind, and propped his upper body up on his elbows. Ohno was still kneeling over him, which just made the entire question feel that much more ridiculous.

“Making out on the floor?” Nino replied.

“Well, yeah, _now_ ,” Ohno said. “But later.”

“...Heavy petting on the floor?” Nino suggested. “Blow jobs on the floor? One of us screwing the other _into_ the floor? Your choice, I’m not really that picky.”

Ohno sighed. Nino was alternating between wanting to politely continue this line of questioning and wanting to remind Ohno what he had until very recently been doing with great skill and enthusiasm by demonstrating.

“Can I tell you something?” Ohno asked almost conversationally. The urge to make out with him as a distraction increased.

“Please,” Nino said blandly.

“I don’t like surprises with this kind of stuff, mostly,” Ohno said. “And I’m—not great at reading signals.”

“...Okay, and?”

“It’s better if you’re really. Um.”

“Satoshi.”

“...Explicit.”

Nino looked at him, once again unsure if this was a trick or a test of some kind. Be explicit? Was this a request for full and clear consent, or an invitation for dirty talking? Or both?

“Ohno Satoshi,” Nino said. “I want to have sex with you.”

“Me too.”

“What do _you_ want then?” Nino asked. “Like I said before, I’m pretty much down for whatever.”

“I don’t know,” Ohno said, looking somewhat frustrated with himself. “I don’t know, because there’s—there’s so much I want, but—“

“In case you forgot,” Nino said, “I _also_ live here. It’s not like we’ve got a one-day pass.” The thought occurred to him suddenly that actually that might be exactly what they had; alarmed, he added, “Right?”

“No, of course, there’ll be more—I mean, you want to... do this again?” Ohno asked hesitantly. Nino gave up on propping himself up for this and just lay down on the floor again, deciding to wait patiently for Ohno to remember how much fun it was to make out.

“It’s only ‘again’ if we do something in the first place,” he pointed out. “So far, the scoreboard is “boners, 2; sex, 0.”

“You’re not helping.”

“ _I want you to fuck me in whatever manner you prefer, and I don’t think that’s too much to ask at this point._ ” Nino snapped at him. His irritation was soothed by Ohno leaning down to kiss him sweetly, slowly, with great deliberation and care. There was heat, but there was also promise, and Nino wrapped his arms around Ohno’s neck to keep him right where he was—right where he was supposed to be.

“How about I just touch you?” Ohno suggested gently against his mouth. Nino made an impatient noise, so he amended the offer with, “Sexually, of course.”

“That was the idea,” Nino said, taking the opportunity to nip at Ohno’s lip. Ohno ground down against his pelvis, drawing a pleased hiss from Nino. His hand made its way to the edge of Nino’s t-shirt, skirting underneath and dragging across his stomach. Those hands that Nino had spent an embarrassing amount of time fantasizing about were now sliding palm-flat up his chest. The second Ohno circled a nipple with his thumb, Nino arched into the touch nearly off the floor.

“Is that good?” Ohno smirked against Nino’s mouth.

“Yes,” Nino gasped, squirming as the touch became a gentle pinch. “Good.” His brain was entering a haze of pleasure in which nothing existed except the places he could feel the heat of Ohno’s body on his. Nino wanted return the favor somehow, so he let his own hands wander. Nipping at Ohno’s jaw and neck, he found that while Ohno was clearly enjoying the touch, it was nothing particularly special or sensitive. He got a brief reaction from letting his fingers drift around Ohno’s ear, but not enough to satisfy Nino. He was suddenly inspired by a series of memories in which he found himself groping Ohno’s frustratingly pert ass and getting his hand slapped away; perhaps it had been a clue all along? He took a chance and grabbed a handful.

Ohno swore in his ear. Nino was so delighted with the reaction he giggled, which only seemed to cause Ohno to come back around for kissing that was quickly progressing from ‘enthusiastic’ to ‘urgent.’ The grind of Ohno’s pelvis against his was hotter than clothed sexual activity had any right to be in Nino’s mind, but that didn’t quench the thirst he had for bare skin. Ohno’s request flitted through his head.

“Shirt,” Nino managed to say, although he was aware that even to his own ears, it was probably frustratingly vague. He wasn’t used to thinking through lust—he wasn’t used to _Ohno_ and the way concentrated attention from Ohno felt like nothing he’d ever done before. They paused in the kissing long enough for Ohno’s expression to register as confused. Still unable to form full sentences, Nino managed, “Both, off,” and hoped that was explicit enough to get them moving in the direction of naked.

Ohno huffed a laugh into Nino’s collarbone, which Nino felt was particularly unfair when his hand had not so much as faltered in its journey across his chest. If Ohno was going to sit there and play with his nipples, it seemed only fair that Nino be able to _watch._ Ohno sat up and yanked off his own shirt, throwing it in the opposite direction as the abandoned pizza box, then helped Nino squirm out of his; Nino’s shoulders barely left the floor before they were kissing again, a mess of lips and tongues and teeth that kept dragging sounds out of Nino’s throat that he hadn’t known he could make.

Sitting up to breathe raggedly, Ohno dragged his hands down to the waistband of Nino’s jeans. He took a brief moment, and Nino watched his eyes travel down his bare chest, then all the way back up to his flushed and panting face and red, thoroughly kissed lips.

“What?” Nino asked defensively. Ohno grinned.

“I like you like this,” he said.

“Under you?” Nino asked. Ohno leaned down until he could murmur in Nino’s ear.

“Hard,” he clarified, grinding for emphasis. As if determined to drive Nino to further depths of madness, he pushed his hips back until he was sitting on Nino’s thighs, then bent in half until he could return to his previous venture on Nino’s nipple—with his tongue. The sensation was almost too much, and Nino squirmed beneath him, twisting his fingers in Ohno’s hair and biting down on his lip to keep from making even more noise than he already was.

The problem was not that Nino didn’t like his chest touched; the problem was that he liked it very much, and extended periods of attention got him wound up in a way that not much else could. The fact that they’d been making out so intensely combined with the current activity meant that Nino was on the verge of coming just from this. He forced words to leave his lips; it was a struggle, partly because his mouth didn’t remember how to speak anymore, and partly because his body didn’t want to say the same thing as his mind.

“Stop,” he managed. Ohno froze, lifting his head so he could meet Nino’s eyes. His expression was a heart-pinching combination of anxiety and regret. Nino didn’t like seeing that, ever, but especially not now. He wanted to be cocky and reassuring, but it was a bit difficult to overcome the embarrassment of what he needed to say.

“That’s really—“

“I’m sorry,” Ohno interrupted. His frustration overcame the embarrassment in time to react.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said firmly. “I want to do this, okay? I really want to. But if you keep that up, I’ll come and that’s—it’s just—“ He took a deep breath, trying to force the insecurity out of his voice. He hated being the guy that got off so easily from something so small, but he was, and there wasn’t much he could do about it.

“...You’d come? From this?” Ohno asked curiously. 

“Yes. It’s happened before.” Nino put his hands over his face.

“...Why are you hiding?” Ohno asked softly.

“Because it’s _embarrassing_ ,” Nino informed him. “I don’t like tapping out, but what else can I do?”

“Hey,” Ohno said. “Let me see you for a second.” He lifted one of Nino’s hands off and away, propping himself up with the other. Nino obeyed, aware that he was a very bright color. Ohno leaned forward and kissed his forehead, then his cheek, then one lingering, soft brush against his lips.

“I think you’re cute,” Ohno told him with a smile. “For lots of reasons. This is a new one, but it’s still cute.”

“Says the guy who isn’t going to come in his jeans just because someone breathed on his chest for a while.”

“Says the guy who wouldn’t be mad if you did,” Ohno corrected.

“I don’t _want_ to,” Nino reminded him.

“Okay, so we’ll do something else,” Ohno said. “Some other time though... could be fun.”

“What would you even get out of that though?” Nino pointed out in what he felt was a perfectly reasonable manner. Ohno blinked at him, before turning a bit pink himself.

“I get to watch,” he said. There was a pause; Nino thought the statement would continue, but when it didn’t, he looked at Ohno with a slight suspicion.

“Does watching...”

“I like it,” Ohno said, most definitely embarrassed now but saying it anyway. “That’s... enough for me sometimes, if I’m really... involved.”

“I’ve never talked this much when trying to have sex,” Nino commented. Ohno made a face. “It’s not bad,” he amended quickly, “It’s just—not normal yet.”

“For the record,” Ohno said, “Listening to someone is... also good.”

“You _do_ like dirty talking,” Nino said, delighted despite himself for having figured it out. Ohno laughed nuzzling Nino’s jaw.

“Never said I didn’t,” he said. “Not tonight though. Tonight, I just want you.”

A shiver rolled through Nino’s body at the simple statement; he could count on one hand the number of people who had ever made him feel _wanted_ this way, and not one of them had ever expressed it so explicitly. It was a powerful feeling, and he wondered briefly if Ohno would always have this effect on him.

He sincerely hoped so.

“You can have me,” Nino informed him, “But that will be easier if we lose these.” He punctuated his recommendation by tugging on one of Ohno’s belt loops. Ohno grinned at him, dropping a kiss on his lips like he couldn’t quite resist the urge to do so before pulling back and climbing off of Nino.

“If it’s okay with you, could we...” He trailed off, apparently lost in thought. Nino waited for the sentence to continue, but when it seemed to be going nowhere, he waved a hand in front of Ohno’s face.

“Hey,” Nino said. “Finish that thought. And take off your pants.”

Ohno blinked at him like he’d been staring into a very bright light that left him momentarily dazed.

“Sorry,” he said, “It’s just—are you really into doing stuff on the floor?”

“In to?” Nino repeated. “Like a fetish or something?” Ohno nodded at him. “I’m not married to the idea or anything,” Nino explained. “I just figured since we’re already down here...”

“We could move,” Ohno suggested.

“To my bed,” Nino elaborated, “Seeing as there is literally no other suitable furniture in this place.”

“Or the bathroom,” Ohno suggested. Nino was briefly overtaken by fantasies he nursed as a younger teenager every time he thought about joining Ohno in the communal showers at whatever venue they happened to be at. Something about water and Ohno’s chest combined in a way that gave him more ideas than solutions.

“Another time,” he said. It was kind of strangely fun to plan ahead for sex; he appreciated spontaneity, but having a bucket list of things to Do With Ohno (While Doing Ohno) was pretty fun too. Ohno smiled at him again, making his heart do that funny flip in his chest, and stood up; he extended a hand to Nino with an exaggerated bow. Giggling, he took the offer to help him up off the floor, but once standing he could resist the urge to kiss Ohno again. It just seemed like he couldn’t ever get enough of it, and he kind of hoped he never would.

Ohno hooked his fingers in Nino’s belt loops and started to walk them backwards in the general direction of the room they’d decided was Nino’s. Nino was starting to wonder if it even particularly mattered if they had designated spaces, seeing as he planned on making out constantly from here on out. As soon as the back of Ohno’s legs hit the bed, Nino pushed him down and happily straddled Ohno’s waist. Pleased with this turn of events, he grabbed Ohno’s wrists and pinned them down, dipping his head to kiss Ohno with a bruising intensity. He could feel Ohno test his hold, but he gave up on escape pretty quickly. When Nino’s mouth moved to his jaw, mixing a few little bites in with kisses, Ohno made a soft whining sound of complaint.

“I want to touch you,” he murmured. There was a brief attempt to get his hands back again, but Nino wasn’t budging.

“You can,” Nino said with a smug grin. “Later.”

“Do we need a safeword?” Ohno asked, tilting his head.

“Uh,” Nino said with a confused expression, “I don’t know, do we?” After a beat, he added, “Do you?”

“You’re holding me down,” Ohno pointed out. 

“But not in a kinky way,” Nino protested. 

“Are you sure?” Ohno asked, “Feels a little kinky to me.”

“I’m not kinky!” Nino insisted. Ohno smirked at him, and somehow, despite being the one very clearly on top and in control, Nino felt himself flushing a bit. He didn’t think of himself as kinky, but with Ohno... the possibilities seemed suddenly both endless and inviting.

“Well, I am,” Ohno told him quite frankly. Before he could sidetrack the conversation more, Nino bent down to kiss him firmly and aggressively; he nipped at Ohno’s lips and pulled back, pleased to see Ohno straining up to follow. He released his hold on Ohno’s wrists, freeing him; both hands came up to cradle Nino’s face and pull him down for more kissing. As much as Nino was enjoying it, he still felt like they were getting off track. He sat up, not completely out of reach, but much more deliberate.

“You like talking this stuff out, right?” Nino said, a bit breathless. Ohno just nodded at him, apparently taking in the view; Nino climbed off him and stood up, undoing his belt with shaking hands. “Strip. Show me everything. I want to see you.”

Ohno made a sound that Nino had never heard before; it was halfway between a whine and a moan. When Nino raised an eyebrow at him, Ohno looked slightly embarrassed. Acting on a suspicion, Nino added a hint of steel to his tone.

“Get naked. Now.”

The speed with which Ohno removed his remaining clothes was impressive; it seemed like he had a bit of a thing for Nino ordering him around. Tucking that information away for later, Nino took in the sight before him: Ohno, naked and hard, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at Nino with rapt attention. It made Nino feel both very turned on, and simultaneously very self-conscious. Whatever he was thinking, it must have shown on his face, because Ohno reached out a hand and caught Nino’s, twisting their fingers together.

“I could look at your forever,” he said breathlessly. Nino felt a flare of heat in his face, but this time it was more pleased than shy. 

“I still have pants on,” Nino pointed out.

“And when they’re off, I _will_ look at you forever,” Ohno said with a grin. He was too comfortable; Nino wanted to shatter his composure and leave him completely undone at every edge. He shed the last of his clothing, kicking it into a corner to be forgotten, and moved forward; Ohno reached up for him, but Nino had other plans. He sat on his heels between Ohno’s legs, looking up at him for a reaction.

Ohno looked as if his brain had short-circuited. Aware of Ohno’s request for explicit communication, Nino wrapped a hand around Ohno’s cock and stroked, his grip still somewhat loose, before asking a light, conversational tone, “Is it okay if I blow you?”

He got a nod. 

“I’m going to need words from you, Ohno-san,” Nino said, stroking again. Ohno was clenching his jaw, but after a few seconds he managed an incredibly breathy, “ _Yes._ ”

Nino didn’t need any more encouragement; without letting go, he dropped his head to take Ohno’s cock in his mouth. There was a heaviness and taste he liked, almost as much as he liked the sounds Ohno was desperately trying not to make. Ohno put one hand on Nino’s head, twisting in his hair and gripping, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to give Nino an idea of what Ohno was particularly enjoying. He seemed to like the way Nino’s hand would drag along the base at the same time as Nino’s tongue pressing flat against the underside of his cock. 

They’d been winding themselves up for so long, it didn’t take much time at all for Ohno to completely lose that composure Nino had been so determined to break; he was panting and shaking, then his grip on Nino’s hair tightened suddenly. Nino was happy to continue his ministrations until Ohno was utterly spent, but he had no intention to swallow; Ohno didn’t seem to expect him to, because he handed Nino a handful of tissues from the box next to the bed with weakly-trembling hands. Nino spat into the tissues before discarding them and standing up.

Ohno’s hands settled on Nino’s hips, and he pulled Nino closer to him.

“You said you liked to watch,” Nino reminded him, feeling quite pleased with himself. Ohno kissed his stomach and laughed against his skin; it sent goosebumps all the way down Nino’s spine.

“I do,” Ohno agreed. “I did.”

“So…” Nino said, uncomfortably aware of his own erection now that Ohno was so close to it. Ohno looked up at him and smiled in a way that made Nino’s thoughts screech to a halt so fast he half-suspected it was audible. Ohno’s fingertips were burning hot points on his skin, thumbs brushing softly across his hip bones.

“You like watching me draw, right?” Ohno asked, and Nino frowned, unsure of the relevance. 

“Yeah,” he said cautiously.

“But you don’t like the drawing part, do you?” Ohno continued, a slow smile blooming on his face. “It’s never been about the picture, has it?”

Nino swallowed compulsively before shaking his head. Ohno was immensely talented, of course, but it wasn’t the paper that had him staring spell-bound. It was those beautiful, elegant hands. As if reading his mind, Ohno’s right hand drifted from Nino’s hip, coming to wrap firmly around his cock.

“Oh,” Nino said, because words had once again failed him. His hands reached out, looking for something to hold him up, but Ohno let go. “No,” Nino heard himself saying desperately, “No, please, please—“

Ohno laughed, and Nino was almost offended. Before he really had time to get mad, Ohno was turning him around and pulling him down; he ended up sitting on the edge of the bed between Ohno’s legs, his back pressed warmly to Ohno’s chest. From there, it was easy to reach an arm around Nino’s waist and return to where it belonged: on his cock. Nino still felt the powerful desire to hold on to something, so he twisted their left hands together and reached up with his right to tangle in Ohno’s hair. As Ohno’s grip changed and picked up speed, Nino couldn’t tear his eyes away. Those fingers he’d fantasized about in a million different ways, moving up and down his cock in a way he’d never be able to replicate with his own hand.

He was dimly aware of the amount of noise he was making, but judging by the feel of Ohno’s lips on his neck, it was appreciated. After what felt like no time at all, he was teetering on the edge of orgasm; a particularly intense bite near his shoulder was the final push he needed.

His head had fallen back on Ohno’s shoulder, panting as his head cleared. Ohno was still pressing kisses and light nips to his neck and throat, which was not quite distracting enough to wrench Nino’s thoughts off of the track they’d begun to follow.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” he said, a mixture of awe and confusion.

“I can,” Ohno said simply, breathing it against Nino’s ear.

“How long—how long have you wanted this?”

“This specifically, or you?”

“Both.”

“I’ve—liked you for years,” Ohno said, and Nino didn’t miss the last-second word choice. “It got more intense in the last few.”

“When I said I would have made out with you in Kyoto, I was totally serious, you know,” Nino commented. “I would have. I would have done anything you wanted.”

“Kazunari,” Ohno said after a pause, “What is this to you?”

“What?”

“Is it—was it always kind of... sexual?”

Ah. The question had come up in previous experiences before; Nino had never had to truly sit down and discuss it directly with any of his partners, but Ohno was uncharacteristically chatty about all of this, and something in the tone of his voice made Nino think this was important to clarify. He carefully stood up, maintaining the twist of their hands together because he didn’t think he could stand to separate completely.

“Get under the covers,” he told Ohno, who blinked at him.

“Why?”

“Because I’m starting to get cold and this is a weird conversation to have sitting naked in your lap,” Nino said with a certain degree of irritation. Fortunately, Ohno understood, and after a few seconds of fumbling with blankets, he got under and moved as far to the far side as he could so Nino had room to join him. It was still a twin size bed, so they ended up tangled together anyway.

“Look,” Nino said into Ohno’s collarbone. “I love this kind of stuff.” His hand traced meaningless patterns and paths across whatever skin he could reach; it gave him a little thrill to be so close and finally, _finally_ be allowed to follow every impulse that crossed his mind.  
“Sex?” Ohno asked and Nino huffed a sigh.

“No. Well, not entirely,” he said. “I don’t know, I just—want. It’s fun. I don’t get to touch people at all anymore.”

“Ah, wait, didn’t you have a meeting a while back?”

“Yes,” Nino said. “They told me to stop. As long as there’s a camera, I’m not allowed anymore.”

“But backsta—“

“We have cameras there too,” Nino reminded him. “And it’s not like we have free time to hang out privately.”

Ohno’s hand came up to Nino’s hair, threading through his hair in a familiar, gentle carding. It reminded Nino of sharing rooms on tour, back when they still got to do that. Back when he was still allowed to drape, to snuggle up to, to lean. Now?

A minimum distance, and a stern warning.

“I need this,” Nino admitted softly. “It’s not just sex. It’s being close. I need to be close and it drives me up the wall when I can’t.”

“And you want that with me?” Ohno asked.

“If your bed never came, I wouldn’t be even slightly mad,” Nino informed him in response. “If you had to stay right here forever, that’d be—that’s what I want.”

For a long time, Ohno didn’t answer, and Nino wasn’t sure how to interpret his silence. He tried to just memorize the feeling of them together, skin to skin, warm and quiet and close. Maybe if he could carve this into his heart, he wouldn’t have to deal with the constant battle between what he wanted, and what he was allowed.

Even if he was only allowed this once, it might be enough.

“Will you stay?” Ohno said so carefully, so precisely, that Nino understood him perfectly.

“Of course I’m staying,” he said. “I love you.”

He felt Ohno’s relieved laugh through his chest and breath on his ear.

“Oh good,” he said, pressing a kiss to Nino’s forehead. “I love you too.”

“Hey,” Nino said once the flutters of delight in his heart settled down.

“Hm?”

“Let’s keep this weird.”

“I know I asked before,” Ohno said pensively, “But are you _sure_ you’re not kinky?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Nino said with a huge grin. Ohno’s laugh was worth every last second of waiting.


End file.
